


New York Christmas Serenade

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: CS canon divergence.  A re-imagining of what New York City Serenade might have looked like if Killian had found Emma’s NY apartment just before Christmas.  Can the music of the season help Killian bring back Emma’s and Henry’s memories?





	1. Chapter 1

New York Christmas Serenade (pt. 1 of 4)

**CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)**

_A/N:  I don’t really know what time of year it was when Killian showed up at Emma’s New York apartment door, but for the sake of this canon divergence, I’m saying he showed up the day before Christmas Eve._

Emma shouldn’t complain; she really shouldn’t.  She had a job she loved, she had a roof over her head (a really nice roof at that), plenty of food to eat, a son she loved more than she thought it was possible to love another person, and it was the day before Christmas Eve.  She _should_ be perfectly happy.

But she couldn’t help but think something was missing.

At first she thought she was just dealing with the inevitable melancholy that comes after the breakup of a longtime (well…longtime for her.  When you’re used to one night stands, having a boyfriend for eight months seems like an eternity) relationship, but that wasn’t quite it.  Honestly?  She’d barely even thought about Walsh since she broke up with him just before Halloween.  He’d been okay she guessed, but…well, there was no _spark_ there.

No, it was more than breakup blues.  It felt more like loneliness. She glanced over her shoulder at Henry who sat at the breakfast table garnishing their mugs of hot cocoa with both cinnamon and little mini candy canes (in honor of the season), and the guilt hit.  She loved Henry, of course she did, but she couldn’t help but feel like someone…maybe _several_ someones…were missing.

Emma had just passed a plate of chocolate chip pancakes to an excited Henry when the knock came at her apartment door.  That was…odd.

“We expecting someone?” Henry asked, already beginning to dig in to his breakfast.

“No,” she said, her brow furrowed.  “Just…stay here kid while I see what this is all about.”

Emma didn’t know what she expected to see when she opened her door, but a pirate in full black leather and guyliner wasn’t it.  Nor did she expect the look of utter joy—like she’d just given him the best Christmas gift in the world—that crossed his face at the site of her.

“Swan,” he breathed, blue eyes lighting up.  “At last.”

The pirate stepped forward, looking like he was about to embrace her.  For a moment, her mind went blank.  There was something _familiar_ about this man, although she was pretty sure she’d remember meeting him before.  Aside from his odd choice of clothing, he was _hot_.  Not just kind of hot.  Like burn-all-of-New-York-to-the-ground hot.

For half a second, she almost let him envelope her in a hug, and then common sense returned.  Emma Swan did not just stand there and let crazy guys touch her.  She put a hand to his chest, warding him off.  “Do I know you?” she asked in a voice she determinedly made hard and unyielding.

“I’m…an old friend,” he said.  He wasn’t being entirely truthful, though he wasn’t lying either…not exactly.  What was going _on_ here? 

“Look, Swan,” he said urgently, taking a tiny step forward once more, “I know you don’t remember me, but I need you to trust me.  Your family is in great danger.  They need you; they need the savior.”

“Look buddy,” Emma said, “I don’t know who you are or what kind of delusions you have, but my whole family is right there at that breakfast table.  My son is the only one who _needs_ me.”

“You simply don’t remember, love,” he began, “I can help you…”

“It’s time for you to go,” she said, giving a little push to his chest until he’d crossed her threshold, “go peddle your crazy to someone else.”

With that she shut the door in his protesting face.

“Who was that?” Henry asked around a bite of pancake.

“No idea,” Emma said.

“Really?” Henry asked.  “Are you sure?  It’s just…something about him seems really familiar.”

“Must be a coincidence,” Emma said with a shrug as she sat down to her breakfast.  “But enough about psychos who show up at our door.  Let’s talk about the weekend!  We’ve got a lot of Christmas-ing to fit into the next three days that I have off.  What do you want to do first?”

Emma tried to forget the handsome pirate, she truly did.  She tried to forget him as she and Henry went ice skating.  She tried to forget him as they rolled out Christmas cookies and cut them into festive shapes.  She tried to forget him while Henry played his video game and she covertly wrapped his presents.  She tried to forget him when she and Henry sat down to watch _Elf_ that night.  She tried to forget him as she lay in her big, lonely bed.

But somehow mystery pirate man wouldn’t leave her thoughts no matter what she did.  When she woke up on Christmas Eve morning after having a weird dream where she and the pirate guy were in this weird jungle place and she kissed the living daylights out of him, she gave up.  Clearly she was going to get no peace until she found him again and heard him out, found out what the hell he’d meant by “your family needs you”.

As luck would have it, Emma didn’t even need to dig into her bail bonds person bag of tricks to locate her target.  She’d promised Henry she’d take him to the zoo in Central Park that day to see the Christmas festivities. And who should she see sitting on a park bench just outside the zoo’s entrance, but pirate man?

The man got to his feet as soon as she was in site.  “Emma!” he said in excitement.  “Fancy seeing you here, love.”

“Seriously?” she asked, adding extra briskness to her voice to counteract the way the butterflies had started to swoop in her stomach the moment she saw him.  “You are a _stalker_.”

“Not at all,” he said.  “It was _you_ who followed me here.  Perhaps you, Swan are the stalker here, aye?”  Turning to her left, the man nodded at her son.  “Henry!  Good to see you!  Enjoying your Christmas holidays?”

Henry gave the man a suspicious glance and then broke into a smile.  “Yeah, it’s been great!  Three full days with mom before she has to go back to work…amazing!  But…do I know you?”

The man ruffled his hair.  “I’d wager not, at least not to your knowledge.  Killian Jones at your service, lad!”

“Cool!  Where’d ya get the pirate costume?”

The man looked down at himself and then shrugged.  “I’ve been wearing this attire for such a long time I don’t recall where I acquired it.”

“So, Killian, would you like to come to our apartment for Christmas Eve tonight?” Henry asked before Emma could stop him.  “We’ll light up the tree and watch Christmas movies and hang our stockings and everything.”

The man…Killian…shot her a questioning glance.  “I don’t wish to impose on your family traditions, lad, but if your mother doesn’t object I’d like nothing in all the realms more than to accept your invitation.”

For long moments, Emma stood in indecision.  Her brain was screaming at her to run away as fast as possible.  People did _not_ invite strange men dressed in crazy attire into their homes—not unless they had a strange desire to be murdered, that is.  But her heart…well, her heart kept (illogically) insisting that not only could she _trust_ this Killian Jones, somehow she actually _knew_ him.

What came out of her mouth surprised even her.  “Sure.  Come by the apartment around 7?”

But really, no one should be alone on Christmas Eve, should they?

Killian’s brows rose almost to his hairline.  Safe to say that was _not_ the answer he was expecting either.  “I shall look forward to it love.”

_Notes:_

_\--Surprise, surprise, I’m not going to be able to fit my New Year’s fic into a one shot.  This one will be a 4 shot.  Because I’d hate to string this thing out to three weeks past New Year’s (it would seem to lose its relevancy, I’d think), I decided this week’s Fluffy Fridays will last from Thursday through Sunday.  Consider the extra chapters bonus Christmas/New Year’s gifts!_

_\--Up next:  Killian comes to Christmas Eve dinner bearing gifts.  He’s hoping one of them might jog a certain someone’s memory…_


	2. Chapter 2

New York Christmas Serenade (pt. 2 of 4)

**CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)**

Killian felt an unaccustomed stab of nervousness flow through him as he walked the steps leading toward Swan’s abode.  He knew very little of what was transpiring in Storybrooke, only that the kingdom had once again been transported to the Land Without Magic via a curse and they needed the savior. 

Much was riding on Killian’s success in restoring Emma’s memories, and he felt the weight of the responsibility placed upon his shoulders.  While he’d have traded away the _Jolly_ and done all in his power to find Swan simply for her own sake, the fact that her parents were counting on him spurred him on even more.  It had been centuries since he’d truly belonged _anywhere_ and he had no intention of mucking this up.

Truthfully it was a minor miracle she’d invited him to spend the evening with her and the lad at all, but from what he’d gathered as he’d wandered the streets of this strange place called “New York” Christmas was a time for miracles.

Taking a deep breath, Killian raised his artificial hand and wrapped on her apartment door promptly at 7:00 pm.  He tapped his fingers against his leg as he waited, and then suddenly the door was opened and she stood there and literally took his breath away.  She wore a soft green sweater that brought out her eyes, jeans and brown boots, her hair was pulled back into a soft pony tail.

“You’re stunning, love,” he said in wonder—almost reverence.  His heart rate picked up as he saw her color prettily at the compliment.  If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Emma Swan was flustered by his presence in her home.

“Thanks,” she said, “you look pretty good yourself.”

Killian looked down at his black jeans, his blue button down shirt and his leather jacket, glad he’d thought to find attire more suitable to his environs. 

“Aye, well..” he said giving her a flirtatious grin, “I have been called dashingly handsome, love.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed softly, breathily.  Killian leaned toward her, drawn to her, wishing nothing more than to repeat their mind-blowing kiss on Neverland.  For a moment, Emma leaned forward, lifted her head.  _Was she actually going to allow him to kiss her?_

“Hey guys, are you coming in soon?” came Henry’s voice from the kitchen, “I’m _starving_.”

And with that the spell was over.  Emma took a healthy step back, held onto the door and waved him in.  “Yeah, um…” she said, “come in.  Dinner’s ready.”

Killian obliged, shedding his jacket and placing it on the rack beside the door.  He looked around in interest, admiring the large, open feel of the apartment, impressed with the large, well decorated pine tree in the corner near the windows, enjoying the delectable aroma’s wafting in from the kitchen.

“It smells tasty, love,” Killian said, taking the seat Henry indicated at the head of the table.  “Did you prepare our meal yourself.”

Henry laughed.  “Mom doesn’t cook; especially on Christmas!  Of any day of the year we ought to at least have edible food on Christmas Eve and Christmas day.”

“Excuse me?” Emma said feigning great offense.  “You better watch yourself, Kid.  Santa’s still watching.  Don’t want to get on the naughty list.”

Henry grinned.  “Hey, I’m only telling the truth.  I’d say being honest ought to keep me on the nice list.  But seriously, Killian, we had our dinner catered from this little Italian place down the street.  They have the best spaghetti and meatballs you’ve _ever_ eaten!”

Killian smiled at the playful ribbing between mother and son.  Though he knew his Swan would wish to have her memories and know the truth, he was grateful to the Queen for giving her and the lad such pleasant memories and such a close relationship in their false life.

“I’ve no doubt but that you’re right, Henry,” Killian said, taking the bowl of long, thin pasta Swan passed him. He placed a healthy serving on his place, and then topped it with the red sauce placed before him on the table.  “As it happens, this is the first time I’ve ever consumed this particular dish.”

Both Swan and her lad stopped what they were doing and shot him astonished looks.  “You’ve _never_ eaten spaghetti and meatballs before?” Henry asked.

“Not even once.”

“Well are _you_ in for a Christmas treat!” Henry assured him as he began to eat with typical preteen gusto.

And as Killian ate his meal of spaghetti and meatballs, salad and garlic bread, he had to admit the lad was correct—although whether it was the deliciousness of the food or the pleasantness of the company he enjoyed most was a matter for some debate.  As the evening continued, Swan lost the last hint of her nervous awkwardness and began talking and laughing with him—far more open than she’d ever before been in his presence.

After dinner, Killian followed the lad into the living room to choose a movie for the evening, after which came a ritual that left Henry nearly writing in excitement.

“We open most of our gifts on Christmas morning,” Emma told Killian as Henry rushed toward the tree, carefully picking up each of the brightly wrapped packages which bore his name, shaking them, looking them over, weighing them in his hands, “but a few years ago, the kid talked me into starting a Swan family tradition of him getting _one_ of his presents on Christmas Eve.  Choose carefully kid.”

And suddenly, with the mention of gifts for the occasion of Christmas, Killian came up with a plan.  What if he was able to jog the lad’s memories?  With Henry on his side, perhaps the two of them could find a way to remind Emma who she _truly_ was.

Killian grinned as Henry opened his chosen gift.  The lad’s enthusiasm and exuberance were contagious.

“The video game I wanted!” Henry said as soon as the bright, colorful paper was ripped away.  “Thanks mom!  This is _great_!”

Emma ruffled his hair.  “No problem kid,” she said.  “And just you wait.  You may be an expert at the other games, but I’m determined I’m going to beat you at this one!”

“Sounds like a challenge to me, lad,” Killian said teasingly, reaching over to playfully squeeze Swan’s shoulder from her perch beside him on the couch.  “Are you going to let it go unanswered?”

“No way!” Henry said.  “You’ll see, mom!  You may be good catching real bad guys, but I’ve got the video bad guys quaking in their boots!  Can I play it now?  Please?”

Before Emma could answer, Killian put a up his artificial hand.  “Just a moment, lad,” he said.  “If you please, I have my own gifts to bestow.”

“Killian,” Emma said, looking over at him, “you didn’t need to…”

“Nonsense, love,” he answered.  “You were so kind as to allow me to share your holiday.  The least I can do is offer a few small tokens of my gratitude.”

“Seriously, we don’t expect…” Emma began again, but this time she was interrupted by her son.

“Did you bring me something?” he asked Killian stepping up to him.

“Indeed I did, lad,” Killian said, reaching for his satchel.  “If I don’t miss my guess, you have the heart of a true believer.  The truest believer, even.  I thought perhaps you might find joy in perusing the stories of other heroes and believers.”

With a flourish, Killian pulled Henry’s old storybook from his bag and presented it to the boy.  It was this book that had ignited Henry’s belief the first time.  Was it possible the item would do the trick for a second time?

Henry accepted the offering, muttering a quick “Thank you,” before peering in confusion at the tome.

“A storybook?” Henry asked, brow furrowed.

“Aye,” Killian said, “a storybook, but I hope you’ll find it so very much more.  Go on lad, open it.”

Killian watched eagerly as Henry opened the book to the story of his grandparents.  He hadn’t long to wait.  Henry couldn’t have read more than a paragraph before his eyes got wide as saucers and he quickly looked up at Killian.

“Hook!” he said slowly.  “I…I remember!”

Waves of relief covered Killian like a blanket.  He may still have quite the uphill task in front of him, but for the first time since finding his beloved Swan in her apartment home, Killian knew without a doubt that he would succeed.

_Notes:  So, Killian had a successful Christmas Eve evening with Emma and Henry.  He’s succeeded in the first leg of his “operation”.  Henry now remembers.  Hopefully the two of them together can find a way to bring back Emma’s memories._

_\--Up next: Emma wakes up on Christmas morning—and ends up spending a very pleasant full day with both her son and the pirate she doesn’t yet remember she had feelings for._


	3. Chapter 3

New York Christmas Serenade (pt. 3 of 4)

**CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)**

“Mom!  Wake up!” Henry said, shaking her shoulder.  “It’s Christmas morning!”

Emma groaned as she woke up.  It was early.  Way too early.  By the look of the sky from her bedroom window, it would still be Christmas morning for another several hours yet.  It could barely even be called dawn.

“Alright, Kid, I’m up,” she said on a yawn, reaching for her robe and slippers.  “I know you’re all about opening the rest of your presents, but you’re going to have to wait for the coffee to brew.  You know I’m not awake before I’ve had my first two cups.”

“Don’t worry about that!” Henry said, “Killian already made coffee.  Now he’s working on breakfast.”

Emma froze.  _Killian_.  How had she forgotten the handsome stranger was still there?

Not long after Henry opened his gifts, Emma had glanced out the window to see it snowing with a vengeance.  Turning on the TV, she quickly found out why.  They were in the opening stages of a monster blizzard.

Emma shot Killian a concerned look.  “You have a place to stay?” she asked.  “Your home close?”

“I’m afraid not, love,” Killian said.  “I’ve yet to secure lodgings for myself.  It’s no matter, though.  I’ve weathered many a storm.”

The thought of turning him out into the blizzard had seemed beyond heartless.  Who let a guest of theirs go out and freeze to death in a blizzard?  Particularly one her son seemed to have an inexplicable bond with—especially after getting that storybook?  Particularly one _she_ felt such a tie to. 

“Look,” she’d said stiffly.  “It’s nasty out there.  If you want, you can crash on our couch.  Can’t guarantee it’s the most comfortable bed you’ll ever sleep on, but it’s bound to be better than wandering around on the streets of New York in the middle of a blizzard, right?”

His eyes had lit up as though she’d offered him the best gift of his life.  “It would be an honor to sleep on your couch, Swan,” he’d said in wonder.  “You’ve no idea how much it means to me that you’ve offered.”

Now, in the (still barely there) light of day, Emma began to second guess her magnanimous gesture.  What did she even know about this Killian guy really?  What kind of a mother lets a strange guy—who could be a serial killer for all she knew—crash on her couch with her _son_ in the apartment.

_You’re safe with him.  He’d never harm you._

Now where had _that_ thought come from?  It made no sense that she’d know that, but somehow she could feel the truth of the statement all the way to her bones.  Killian Jones was no threat to her or to Henry.

(Well…except perhaps to her heart.  Only one night in the man’s company—one very platonic night—and she could already feel herself falling for him.  What was with her?  Emma Swan did not get crushes like that!  She had her heart locked up as tightly as Fort Knox.  No way she lets feelings in!)

Emma took a tentative step from her bedroom and couldn’t help the groan of appreciation that escaped her.  It smelled amazing out there.  Coffee—strong coffee from the scent of it—percolating, bacon sizzling, pancakes on the griddle.  She took it back.  Not only was Killian no threat to her, she may have to just invite him to live with the two of them.

“Morning love,” He called with a cheery smile—how did he look that chipper after only getting a few hours of sleep on a lumpy sofa?  “I trust you slept well?”

“What little amount of time the kid let me sleep,” she said on a yawn.  “He’s lucky it’s Christmas or no way I’d let him get away with waking me up at the butt crack of dawn.”

Killian chuckled.  “No I suppose not.  I know full well a man is taking his life in his hands when he wakes you.  There was one morning on Never…er…I mean…you look like someone who enjoys her sleep.”

“Nice recovery,” Henry said under his breath.  “Making her think you’re crazy is definitely not how you make headway with Operation Captain Swan.”

“Never?  Operation Captain Swan?” Emma asked in bewilderment.  “What are the two of you talking about?  How do you know my sleeping habits?  And when did you and Henry suddenly become best friends? ”

“Not to worry, Swan,” Killian said, scratching away at that spot on his neck again.  “This morning the lad merely told me that the way to your heart is through your stomach.”

“The way to my...Are you…are you saying you want to get to my heart?” No way she was telling him that very organ was pounding so hard at the very notion she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

In a blink Killian’s embarrassment faded away to be replaced by pure flirtatious mischief.  “Oh darling.  You have no idea,” he purred.

She held his gaze for as long as she could (which…ended up being less than five seconds), and then she hid behind her favorite defense—sarcasm.  “Yeah, well, you gonna take that bacon out of the pan or just let it burn while you act like an idiot?”

He shot her a wounded look.  “Of course I had no intention of burning your victuals, Swan!  It took me quite some time to determine the proper way to utilize your cooking box, and now that I have, I have no intention of ruining a perfectly good breakfast.”

“It’s called a stove, Hook,” Henry muttered under his breath.

Seriously, when did the two of them become all buddy-buddy?  And where was this guy _from_ that he didn’t even know what a _stove_ was?

She had no further time to ponder the big questions of her life, though, as Killian slid a plate of food and a mug of coffee in her direction.  At the first bite, Emma moaned in ecstasy.  The man could _cook._

Looking up, she caught the positively sinful look in Killian’s eye.  “I quite like that sound Darling.  Perhaps I might endeavor to elicit it once more…sometime when we’re alone.”

“La, la, la,” Henry said, sticking his fingers in his ears.  “Kid in the room guys!”

Emma felt her face flame, so she did the only reasonable thing, she turned a withering glare at the idiot in leather currently seated at the head of the table.  “In your dreams Jones.”

“You have no idea.”

Emma glared again, expecting to see the same sinful look in his eyes, but what she found instead floored her.  Pure, unvarnished longing.  It was the look of a man desperately in love.  One who feared he’d never have a chance with the girl of his dreams.

The look called to her, and she suddenly had the insane urge to reach over, grab his hand and reassure him that he would find happiness one day.

Fortunately her hand closest to Killian was currently occupied shoveling as much food as possible into her mouth.

Breakfast was a short affair, eaten hastily.  While Henry was normally a pretty patient kid, waiting to open presents on Christmas morning would test the patience of any kid.

“Why don’t you go get your presents organized,” Emma said, getting to her feet.  “I’ll just take care of these dishes and I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Nonsense, Swan,”  Killian said with a hand to her arm…a soft pat that felt almost like a caress.  “Go have Christmas morning with your son.  I’m perfectly capable of righting the galley.”

“You sure?  I hate to have you cook breakfast and then stick you with dishes too.”

“Aye,” he said with a tender smile.  “Believe me when I say your happiness…yours and your lad’s…ensure my happiness.”

She smiled, impulsively reaching over and squeezing his hand.  “Thanks.”

“You are most welcome.”

The following hour passed in a veritable blur, Henry moving from present to present.  She supposed maybe she spoiled him with all the Christmas gifts she’d gotten him, but he was such a good kid and so genuinely grateful for everything he got.  And then, of course, there was always that little lost girl inside of her that would never forget what it was like to wake up on Christmas morning to a bare tree and a lack of family.  If it made her go a little overboard with her kid…that was just the way it was.

Just as the last gift—a brand new journal and gel pen (the kid liked to write)—was unwrapped, the couch seat beside her sagged, and Emma looked over to see Killian by her side.  Not only by by her side, but close enough she could feel the heat of his body against her.  It was…distracting to say the least.

“Um…” she said, clearing her throat and trying not to sound like a complete fool, “I guess that’s it.  The gifts are all unwrapped.”

“Not quite, Swan,” he said in a low, caressing voice.  “I’ve one yet to bestow on you.”

“Me?” she asked.  “You got me a gift?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod, turning away to rummage through his satchel once again.  I saw this and thought of you.”

“Th…thank you,” she said, taking the long, thin velvet-covered box he held out to her.  Opening it, she found a diamond and opal pendant in the shape of a swan attached to a fine, silver chain.  It was gorgeous.

“I know you don’t remember, love,” he said softly, “but this pendant reminds me of our first adventure…one of the most satisfying adventures of my life, and it belongs with no one but you.”

“The beanstalk!:” Henry said from his place on the floor, still surrounded by his Christmas loot.  “It reminds you of the beanstalk.”

“Aye,” Killian said.  “That it does indeed.”

It should have been completely nonsensical this conversation her son was having with her…pirate ( _No!  Not_ her _pirate!)_ , but somehow it simply _wasn’t_.  Something deep within her wanted to nod along and agree with them.

Before she could second guess herself, Emma leaned over and impulsively hugged Killian.  “Thanks!  I love it.  And…I mean, it’s still snowing out there.  If you, you know, want to keep crashing on the couch for the next few days, I’m okay with that.”

_Notes:  I wanted to give Emma’s perspective on the things going on, but unfortunately, that didn’t give me an opportunity to show any post-memory gain conversations between Henry and Killian—or explain what Henry meant by “Operation Captain Swan”.  Don’t worry, all will be revealed in the fourth (and last) section of this little story._

_\--Up next: We learn what kind of plots Emma’s boys have hatched to help her remember—and whether or not they’re successful.  As New Year’s Eve arrives, Henry tells Killian about a certain midnight-on-New-Year’s-Eve tradition in the Land Without Magic._


	4. Chapter 4

New York Christmas Serenade (pt. 4 of 4)

**CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)**

“Hey Hook,” Henry said from his spot at the kitchen table a week later.  “Tonight’s the big night!  The moment of truth!”

Killian looked around in alarm, afraid Swan had overheard the lad’s impetuous words.

“Don’t worry,” Henry said, noting the direction of his gaze.  “She’s not here.  She had a quick bowl of cereal and then headed out after her latest skip.  She said she had a really promising lead.”

Killian nodded in relief.  Tonight might be the moment of truth; the moment he took a chance; the moment he tested the lad’s theory that Swan had feelings for him as well, but he wished to remain as circumspect as possible until the big moment.

One week prior, on Christmas Eve, Killian and Henry had remained awake long after Swan retired for the night.

“You remember, Henry?” Killian asked, as soon as Emma entered her bed chamber.  “Truly?”

“Yeah!” Henry said.  “I remember everything—Storybrooke, my other mom, Neverland, Pan’s curse, everything!  Killian how did you _get_ to us?”

“Never mind the details, lad,” Killian said, waving off the question he was not yet ready to answer.  “Suffice it to say it’s a wonder what one can accomplished when he is sufficiently motivated.”

“And you wanted to get back to mom.”

“In part,” Killian said, “but I’m afraid there’s a far more pressing concern.  A curse.”

“Again?” Henry asked, with a sigh.  “Who cast it _this_ time?”

Killian shrugged.  “I’ve no idea.  I…found myself separated from the group quite soon after our return to the Enchanted Forest.  I’ve no idea what your grandparents and the others got mixed up in after I left.”

“Then how did you know to come for us?”

“I received a missive, perhaps from your grandmother,” Killian said.  “I set about securing passage back to your realm the moment I read the news.  I know nothing aside from the fact that the entire realm has once again been transported to Storybrooke.  I can only assume the need for your mother’s savior services is quite urgent.”

“So let’s wake mom up, tell her what’s going on,” Henry said.  “We could be headed back to Storybrooke as soon as this snowstorm stops.”

Killian shook his head.  “I’m afraid it’s not as simple as all that, Henry.  What do you imagine would be your mother’s reaction should I tell her she’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming and she must go back to a town called Storybrooke to break a curse, no doubt cast by a fairy tale villain?”

Henry grimaced.  “Good point.”

The two were silent for a moment, and then Henry brightened once again.  “I know how you can make mom remember!” he said.

“Aye?  What do you propose?”

“True Love’s Kiss.”

Killian sucked in a long breath.  “Come again lad?”

“True Love’s Kiss!  It can break _any_ curse.  It’s perfect!  All you have to do is kiss her and she’ll remember who she was,” Henry said.

“Henry…” Killian began.

“No, really!” Henry said.  “You love my mom, don’t you?”

“Aye, more than you know, but at present your mother doesn’t even _know_ me, let alone love me.”

“Well that’s no problem,” Henry said.  “I think she was starting to have feelings for you back in Storybrooke.  All you have to do is get her to fall in love with you again!  We could call it…Operation Captain Swan!”

_Was that all he must do?_

Killian had to admit to more than a bit of skepticism in his ability to win Swan’s heart in a short period of time, but as no other solution occurred to either of them, Killian finally agreed to the plan.

It was a two-pronged approach.

Over the ensuing week Henry and Killian worked in tandem to help Emma remember her true identity.  It was little things—short vignettes from their true lives.  Discussions of the storybook.  Talk about home and family.

While this was occurring, Killian wooed Emma as tenderly as the most ardent lover—procuring her flowers and small trinkets, preparing her meals, giving her a listening ear, supporting her, praising her, spending quality time with her and Henry.

He was making headway; he knew he was.  Sometimes he’d look up and find her gaze on him—happy, speculative, ardent.  He knew that look.  It was the look of someone falling in love.

Then, of course there was their sleeping arrangement.  Killian had spent the first three nights on the couch in Swan’s living quarters, but just after dinner on the evening of the fourth day, Emma approached him, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

“Look, Killian,” she’d said, after being sure that Henry was otherwise occupied, “I know that couch can’t be comfortable.  If you want, you can, you know, share my bed.”

His eyes had widened in shock.  Had she just suggested….?

“Just to sleep!” she quickly clarified.  “I wasn’t, you know, _propositioning_ you.  I just thought..”  She shrugged.  “I just thought there’s plenty of room in my queen sized bed.  If we each keep to our own side it doesn’t have to be awkward.”

Killian grinned slowly, ducked his chin and swaggered in her direction.  “Oh I assure you, darling.  There would be nothing _awkward_ about it.  If you wished to share your bed with me, you needn’t use the excuse of my discomfort on your couch.  You need only ask.”

“Killian!” she growled.

He grinned and then sobered.  “Thank you for your offer, Swan.  I swear to be a perfect gentleman.  I’m _always_ a gentleman.”

For a moment, Killian could swear Emma remembered the last time he’d uttered those words—at the top of the beanstalk where their story had begun, but then her eyes had cleared and she’d nodded.  “Good,” she said.

But despite her words about remaining separate, the next morning, Killian had woken with Emma in his arms, her head pillowed on his chest, her arms around him, her hair spilling over his arm.

It was pure bliss.

The next night when they retired for bed, Swan had made no mention of the arrangement—or any changes she wished for it.  She’d merely lain on her side, reached for his hand and pulled his hand around her middle.  He’d had the luxury of holding her through the night, this time with her full knowledge and desire.

Aye, Killian was making progress in fulfilling his vow to win her heart; there was no mistake about it, but his progress was far too slow.

“You need to make a big gesture,” Henry finally said on the morning of New Year’s Eve.  “Really put all your cards out there.  I’ve got the perfect idea.”

“Aye?  And what might that be?”

“A New Year’s kiss!”  Henry said.  “It’s a tradition here in our realm.  People kiss each other just as it turns midnight on New Year’s Day.  The person you share your New Year’s kiss with is supposed to be with you all year long.  It’s _perfect_.”

Killian had put forth a token protest at first, but he couldn’t deny the idea had merit.  He _knew_ his Swan.  He knew that she was afraid to give her heart—but he knew she craved love and commitment even more.  She held herself at a distance because she feared the people she allowed herself to care for would leave her.  Perhaps if he bestowed this “New Year’s kiss” on her, it would show her that he was in this for the long haul; that he would never willingly leave her.

Aye, tonight would be the night.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma settled on the sofa, pulled her legs up beneath her, and ducked under Killian’s arm.  It should scare her how comfortable she’d become with him, how much she’d opened up to him, how very close she was to giving her heart to him.  It should terrify her and make her run as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

The thing was…it _didn’t_ scare her.  Not at all.  It simply felt _right_.

The room was bathed in darkness save for the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, the light from the TV.

“So, I’ve been to Time’s Square for the ball drop a time or two,” Emma explained, “but, I don’t know.  It’s overrated.  It’s so crowded you can barely move, and it’s freezing…and then trying to get out of the crowd and go home afterward…just more of a headache than it’s worth.  Why go through all the trouble when I can just catch it from the comfort of my own living room?”

“I must admit,” Killian said, shooting her a warm look.  “I’d far prefer watching these events unfold here, with you in my arms than in that crush of humanity.”

Emma felt her stomach swoop.  It was uncanny how Killian Jones managed to say these things—that would sound like the worst of clichés if spoken by anyone else—and make her melt like a pile of goo at his feet.  She caught his eye and held it for long moments—she had no idea how long, until Henry caught her attention.

“Hey guys!” he said, “pay attention!  They’re going to start the count down any second!”

“Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!...”

The excited crowd had just finished chanting “five” when Emma’s entire world turned on its axis.

“Emma,” Killian said softly, urgently, “I’m in love with you.  I love you with everything within me.  I’d like nothing better than to spend the remainder of the year, the remainder of my life with you.”

And as the ball dropped amid the shouting crowd, Killian leaned over and joined his lips with hers.  For a moment, Emma sat frozen, and then she was kissing him back, caressing his stubbled cheek, running a hand through his hair, moving so close she was nearly in his lap.

Emma felt the strangest energy bubble up within her, and suddenly it burst from her—burst from both of them, forming something resembling a rainbow colored shock wave.

Emma pulled away with a gasp, memories rushing in one after another.  “Hook!” she said, finally.  “I remember!”

On the other side of the room Henry cheered, pumping his fist in the air.  “Yes!”

Beside her, Killian grinned.  “Miss me?”

“What do you think?” Emma asked…just before kissing him so thoroughly Henry was soon making gagging sounds on his side of the room.

Over the next several years there would be plenty of curses to break, villains to defeat, even time to travel through, but during that night, that magical night when Emma and Killian shared True Love’s Kiss, nothing could have dampened their spirits.  With the magic of the night and the magic of their love, Emma knew whoever cast the latest curse didn’t stand a chance.

_Notes:  Happy New Year!  I hope you enjoyed this New Year’s Eve version of New York City Serenade!_


End file.
